It's What Friends Do
by PixelsShattered
Summary: The Specialists are an odd bunch. Each hailing from different backgrounds and walks of life, they have to learn to live together within Black Ops, Lazarus Base. Friendships are born, enemies are made, and maybe there's some room for romance too? This is one of the first stories featuring the Specialists, so that's cool. Maybe R&R?
1. The Final Frontier

**A/N: Just to be clear, I don't plan on doing much with this, and I'm likely leaving it a one-shot, unless the masses of COD fanboys demand I continue. Backstory- My friend and I were playing Black Ops 3 multiplayer, he was Prophet and I was Outrider, and after an hour or two of slaughtering bots, we'd become a pretty good team. At one point, my friend said, "If we were streaming this, anyone watching would've already left the page and written some OutriderxProthet fanfiction…**

 **By the way, I know NOTHING about COD locations and such, so I'm filling in customs I'm not familiar about with other shooter games I have a bit more knowledge on.**

-0-0-0-0- Black Ops Base, July 17th 2061, 0900 hours -0-0-0-0-

"Specialists, intel reports a force of CDP elites near the Blue Nile River, capturing a large game hunting lodge which overlooks a large plot of military land. You will recapture and drive the CDP out. Transport departs at 1000 hours. DISMISSED!," The commander briefed the nine elites gathered in the Black Ops war room.

After more mission specs, each specialist made their way to their lockers to gather their gear, before navigating to the hanger, where a dropship awaited them. One by one, the nine elites sat down, strapped in, and launched.

-0-0-0-0- Outrider's POV -0-0-0-0-

I leaned back in the uncomfortable dropship seat and pulled my forested camouflage hood a little more over my eyes. Honestly, the other eight were strange, foreign, outsiders. Since I'd arrived at the base in May, I'd tried to distance myself from them, and the most awkward moments were the silent ones on the dropships. Even the days I managed to get an end seat, the mercenary next to me always attempted to create small talk, which I routinely ignored.

Of course, ignoring them didn't mean I knew nothing about them. I knew plenty about each man and woman (or robot) in the dropship from their chatter on trips such as these, and sometimes, I wished I didn't.

The pilot stirred me from my thoughts, announcing over the intercoms, "Specialists, this battle takes place outside of the respawn technology's range, so please use caution. In the event of death, respawn modules are now active on all exosuits." I sighed, partially in fear and partially in confusion. Respawn modules? In my two month in and out of battle, I could not recall ever having to use a respawn module. I assumed that was what the implate on my left gauntlet was for, as "RESPAWN MODULE" was engraved on it in thick letters. I bit my lip, not sure if I should ask Prophet, who was unlucky enough to be seated to my left, if he knew how to use it. I tried to speak to my teammates the least I could, except for calling out snipers, enemy deaths and the likes.

-0-0-0-0- Prophet's POV -0-0-0-0-

I heard a quiet whisper from my right. "Hey, Prophet, can I have a second?" I fliched, since the voice was not any I'd heard before, and I assumed it a glitch in the DNI chip in my head, as it had been recently upgraded. I flexed my bio-mechanical arm to see if I could straighten it out.

"Prophet, hello?" the voice came again, and I opened up the interface in my mind. Everything checked out, oddly enough.

"Prophet, I need a bit of help here" unbelieving, I looked over, and saw the partially-covered warm brown eyes of Overwatch staring back at me.

"Sorry, but how exactly does the respawn module work? I've never had to use it before." she quietly asked me, and I opened my own respawn module to demonstrate, still a bit unsure of how to talk to the usually silent mercenary.

"This," I pointed to the entry slot, "Is the entry port. A fallen Specialist's dog tag goes in here, and activating it in close proximity will bring them back from the dead, as long as they haven't been gone for too long." She softly thanked me and turned back, as did I. The rest of the flight was uneventful, and fifteen minutes later we arrived at the target destination.

-0-0-0-0- Outrider's POV -0-0-0-0-

"This dropship is protected by UAV-reflective panels and is currently employing active camouflage, as soon as you all are ready, I will open the bay doors, which will cancel both," The pilot announced to the nine of us.

I checked my LOCUS rifle and dual machine pistols, both of which I'd just gotten back from the paint shop, pleased to see my matching set of chameleon green weapons were ready to go. I boosted the power of my exosuit for the initial dash and felt for my quiver and the handful of explosive sonic arrows as well as my treasured compound bow, the Sparrow. All my equipment where it should be, I nodded ready to the rest of the Specialists, who were prepping their weapons as well. The bay opened, and the nine Black Ops Elites jumped out and scattered. I made my across to an ornate shack and leaned my rifle out the window, as it was my job as the designated sniper to make first contact.

I cycled a round into the chamber and lined my crosshair up to the head of a CDP soldier who was sitting high on a hill with a rifle of his own, scanning for any invaders. I flipped the safety off and pulled the trigger, blowing the enemy sniper's head into multiple pieces.

"Sniper down, engage!" I announced over the comms, as the loud boom of my LOCUS would surly alert the rest of the CDPs, which would begin the battle. Fortunately, with the enemy sniper down, my teammates could operate more freely without the fear of a surprise brain removal. I shouldered and secured my sniper rifle and unsnapped my machine pistols from their holsters, before charging into the fray.

-0-0-0-0- mp_Hunted, July 17th, 2061 1100 hours -0-0-0-0-

I cycled the LOCUS's bolt again, having returned to my sniper spot after a near-death experience with one of the enemy's infantry, and attempted another shot at an enemy Reaper, having missed the first shot. My sniper round pounded a hole in the overturned truck CDP's Reaper ran past, and before I could bolt another shot, it turned and fired the remainder of its magazine at me. I felt multiple bullets chew through my armor and exosuit, and the searing pain of the shots hitting my lungs and stomach shook through me. Respawn would've already claimed me, if it wasn't for the fact we were well outside its broad influence.

I winced, holding back tears, as the acids in my ruptured stomach began to freely leak out and break down my other organs. Struggling to breathe, I tried to yell for help over the radios, but only a faint wheezing sound escaped my mouth. My eyes began to tear up, overwhelmed by the extreme pain, but I could not cry, only choke and wheeze. I began to see black spots, followed by my vision greying out and blurring. My head started to throb, and I managed to reason the acids were destroying my heart. I couldn't move my arms, or my legs, all I could do was lay in my hot, bloody pool at death's doorstep and wait for him to open up.

My DNI started to glitch out due to the lack of blood, and everything began to fuzz and blur and mesh, the sounds of gunfighting becoming more and more unclear as the floor below me started to feel as if it simply wasn't there. I could faintly hear footsteps approaching, and I tried desperately to hold on to the last bit of life in me. I took two more struggled breaths, before I blacked out.

-0-0-0-0- Prophet's POV -0-0-0-0-

I ducked behind a crate to reload my rifle, and saw a notification in the corner of my vision as if someone was speaking on the radio, but no sound came through. I replayed the transmission over, and managed to pick out a small wheeze in the background. Someone was dying. I checked the voice, and Outrider's name appeared. My DNI quickly highlighted her location, and I set off, with Battery giving me cover.

I arrived at the hut she had been sniping in, and was greeted by her dead body sprawled across the floor in a dark red pool of blood, and three bulletholes in her abdomen, staining the mercenary's forest-green clothes an unpleasant red. Her hood had been thrown back, and revealed messy hair strewn on the ground. Her caramel-brown eyes stared up at the ceiling, although they lacked the lively spark I'd noticed on the dropship and her mouth was slightly open, and blood trickled from it.

"Overwatch down, attempting revival!" I alerted the team before feeling for the dog tag around her neck. I quickly snapped it off its beaded chain and slid the tag into my respawn module. I placed my bionic arm on her forehead and activated the module. Energy flowed out and into the sniper's limp body, and she jerked. The color slowly returned to her eyes, and she gasped for air, sitting up on the bloody wood floor.

"Overwatch revived, escorting to the dropship!" I reported over the comms.

-0-0-0-0- Outrider's POV -0-0-0-0-

With blurred and teary eyes, I sat up in my sticky pool of blood and looked up at my savior, Prophet. He offered me a bionic arm, and I took it, shakily standing up. My chest stung, and I let out a sharp gasp, falling down to my knees. Prophet crouched down and put his arms out behind him, wordlessly motioning for me to climb on his back. I pulled myself up onto the half-human fighter's back, and put my head against him as I felt his augmented arms reach around to hold my legs up. I held tight as he took off in a sprint I didn't know possible for a human to make.

An enemy came up behind us, and I sensed a message in my DNI. _Hold Tight_. I held on as I felt my entire body jerk backwards, and when I weakly looked up, we were behind the adversary, which Prophet quickly dispatched of.

Seconds later, we arrived at the dropship, where a medical team was waiting. Prophet lifted my broken and tired body off his back and onto a stretcher. _Thank You,_ I mouthed to the super-soldier as he smiled back and ran off into the heat of battle.

-0-0-0-0- Black Ops Medical Bay, July 18th, 2061, 0100 hours -0-0-0-0-

I woke up to a quiet, sterile white room. I looked down to see several IVs in my abdomen, as well a brace on my neck and a machine that looked akin to a small freezer next to my bed connected to my upper body. Usually, I did nothing to my hair and simply pulled a hood over it, and I was sure it was showing. I scanned the room, and noticed a figure sitting in a chair next to the door, reading a book. I squinted, still not quite used to my DNI in its offline state, and figured it was a doctor or nurse.

I tried to talk, but I could not get any sound to come. I tried again, and nothing. Desperate, I shuffled a bit in the bed, which made enough noise for the man to look up. He stood up, and stepped closer to the bed. The closer I looked, the more I realized the figure approaching was none other than Prophet. He walked up to my bed and kneeled down, eye level with me.

 _Thank you for saving me back there_ , I mouthed to the future soldier, _I would be dead if it wasn't for you._ I hoped his DNI would be able to decipher what I was saying. "You've saved many lives out there, more than I have, soldier." He said, "If that sniper had had a fraction more of a second to aim, Firebreak and Spectre would be dead, followed by the rest of us." _Why come back for me though? Why risk your neck for a support sniper?_ "Because," He warmly smiled, "It's what friends do"

 **A/N: I'm not sure what to say after that. Hopefully it was worth postponing my other stories (speaking of which, if you found me my this, check them out!) for this. Also, if this is something you (yes, you there reader) want to see more of, drop a review or a follow and I'll hop on updating this, because, to be honest, this was intended as a joke to my friend, but it was actually very enjoyable to write. My first official pairing too, so that's a plus. Unfortunatly, there isn't any Outrider or Prother tags in the character list, so hopefully they add those. Pix out!**


	2. An Update and the Future of this Story

**Ok guys, this isn't really a new chapter as much so as an announcement. Tomorrow I'll probably be putting out a short (~500 words) continuity just to hold you guys over until I hopefully get Black Ops 3 or get the chance to play it again, as I don't actually own the game and the only experience I have with it is 8-9 hours at a friends house. I want to remain as faithful as possible to canon and the individual Specialists as I can, and I hope you all will understand where I'm coming from.**

 **~Pix**


	3. Of Life, Love, and Respawn

**A/N: Hey, due to popular request I'm making a new chapter. Hopefully I'll be able to get my hands on a copy of the game for my birthday and then I'll be able to get chapters out more often.**

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

I sat in my room, going over my "scorecard" from the last battle. 18 deaths, 21 kills, 13 assists, and 347 shots fired. Even though I'd been part of this new warfare program for a few months now, the idea of dying nine times in one day was still taking some time to getting used to. It didn't even feel like a war, more like a game. From what I knew, war was organized, strategic, large-scale, and nothing like the purgatory I was in. Everyone else seemed fine with it, and maybe I would be soon enough. Another "battle" was scheduled for later today, fortunately within respawn range again this time.

This "respawn" thing was something else that was getting to me. It reversed death, that part was obvious. It seemed to erase the last few seconds before death, and it seemed to stop, or at least dramatically slow, most physical change. In the months I'd been with Black Ops, I hadn't gained any weight, hadn't grown, and hadn't had to cut my hair once. Nobody else seemed to be changing either. Fortunately, I knew someone who'd know a bit more about this "respawn" system than I. With nothing better to do for now, I made my way down the barrack halls to Prophet's room, the only real friend I had here. If the walking forefront of technology didn't know what it was, nobody knew.

I softly knocked on the door. "Hey Les, you can come in" came the half-man's voice. "How'd you know it was me?" I asked as he discarded whatever he was reading. Prediction was my job. "Come on, you're the only person left in the base who knocks anymore" Hmm, I never noticed that before.

"Hey, how does the Respawn thing work?" I questioned. "Respawn? Well, it reverses death." He casually answered. Not what I was looking for. "Yeah, but how?" He paused. "Well, in a nutshell, those blood tests you took when they brought you in, they use those to recreate your body. You might've noticed that you pretty much haven't aged since the day you signed up. Basically, it transfers your mind to a clone of your body seconds before death and teleports it to the battlefield. There's a bit of a delay, but that's because it usually takes a few tries to successfully teleport a body and weapons." I shifted a bit. I wasn't quite expecting that.

"So… then, what made the Back Ops take me on?" Did something happen to the old Overwatch? He paused again. I immediately regretted asking, I didn't want to know the answer anymore. "It's… not quite perfect. Yet. The old Overwatch… his implants failed. He was killed in a battle, but his mind rejected the technology, and by the time his mind was put in a new body, everything was screwed up. He reappeared in the spawn area, but his body was mutilated and malformed. We tired shooting him on the spot to force a new spawn, but he reappeared even worse. We tried again and again but there was nothing we could do. The commander disconnected him from the Respawn Network and radioed to have Reaper put him out of his misery for one reason, the robot wouldn't regret or remember it. Even a few CDP Specialists came across the scene and stopped to realize the same could happen to them. There was a ceasefire for a few weeks after, and all communications to the outside world were cut off. I guess you were their best choice for a new Overwatch. They said your subconscious was significantly less likely to reject the vigorous strain Respawn would put on it. I was close with him too. He was a good guy, a great marksman too. Young, fast, he had it all going for him. He had a certain air about him, like you could talk about anything and he wouldn't judge, like you could start lying and he'd be there to back up your claims as true. When Black Ops first picked you up, I didn't like you, even though we'd never spoken. The thought of anyone replacing the guy was something that I thought I'd never forgive. Even in that battle outside of Respawn, I almost didn't go back to get you. I don't know why I even did, now that I think about it, but the more I get to know you, the more I think about how I made the split second-choice to put your life before mine."

I sat back, not sure what to say. "But you know what?" he continued, "When we were flying in on the dropship, I was sitting there thinking about the audacity that you had waltzing in and taking a great man's place like it was your own, and when you asked me about the modules, it made me realize that you didn't know. You didn't know anything. You were in an unfamiliar base, surrounded by unfamiliar people with unfamiliar missions, and you knew nothing. It was right there I mentally forgave you, and I guess that's what did it for me to run through hell to save your ass."

I was still speechless, partially in shock and partially in all the new information. Respawn killed a man, my only friend nearly left me for dead, and every death could potentially be the permanent one. "I'm… sorry, I had no idea." I apologized, sorry for rubbing an old wound. "No, don't be, it felt good to be able to confide in someone finally. And for the record, I'd run through the seven circles if it was on your life."

"We should go, the commander will be rounding us up soon for briefing." He added. I nodded, and we set off to the briefing room.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 **A/N: Well, there we go, some elaboration on my take of Respawn. Not much fluff, but maybe that's a good thing (?) I'm hoping to get the game for my upcoming birthday on the 21** **st** **, and then I'll really be able to write fluently about Black Ops 3, since at this point I'm grasping at straws and I'm not sure how obvious it is. If anyone has any good ideas for plots for further chapters, drop me a PM or leave it in a review and I'll probably use it since I'm fresh out of ideas. Until then, I've been Pix, and I'll see you next chapter!**


	4. Meet the Simhouse

**A/N: Hey guys, I just wanted to start with a big giant thanks for how this has been received. In my mind, it was either going to get no notice at all and slowly drift off into the second page, then the third, then the fourth, and be lost for all eternity or get its fair share of hate since literally nobody seems to care about the Specialists, but all the support has been amazing, and I'm at the point where I'm ready to turn this into a full-fledged story. Unfortunately… I still don't actually own the game, and I'm not sure how much longer I can blindly swing at this piñata before I hit my own head, if you know what I mean. Anyway, sorry for the mini-rant, onto the story!**

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

With nothing better to do with my free time, I decided to check out the Armory and Range, since my clearance had been upgraded yesterday, and I could now go anywhere in the base, instead of just the lavatories, showers, and barracks. From what I could gather, there was some sort of incident with a new agent going rouge, and apparently they didn't want it happening again.

After wandering around the halls for a short while, I managed to find the door to what looked like the Armory. I made my way inside to find walls lines with racks of weapons. Rifles, Shotguns, Hatchets, you name it. And did I mention the attachments? Bins full of Laser Sights, Long Barrel attachments, Extended Mags, and every other thing you could ever want to cram onto a gun covered another wall. Lockers made their way across another wall, nine in total. I walked over to the locker with my name on it, and opened it to find my LOCUS and LCAR-9s, as well as my bow and arrows, which I assumed that was where they were normally placed between battles. I removed my Sparrow bow and arrows, and noticed Battery, Nomad, and Ruin were just entering.

Battery was about as far from me as one could get. She was boisterous, loud, and loved explosives. Especially the loud ones. Nomad was a bit better, but he was still loud, foul-mouthed, and I'd noticed a certain smell about him every time I was near. Ruin was, at first glance, very similar to Battery. He loves guns, he loves explosions, and he loved to destroy things. His signature Gravity Spikes certainly got the job done, too, and he did his best to make a spectacle of it. Needless to say, the three had a lot in common, and they were the things I tried to avoid. Unfortunately, the trio also had an eye for things, and it sure wasn't hard to pick my black-and-red attire from the stark grey walls. I decided to avoid them, and made my way into the nearest room.

After closing the door, I turned around to see a rather misty room I couldn't see the other end of. I slowly walked to the middle of the room. A notification appeared, covering my vision. Difficulty? Easy, I guess. Infinite Ammo? Sure. I wasn't sure exactly what I was doing, but I was pretty sure it was some sort of simulation. Either way, it was probably a good way to train, and I wasn't about to have a run-in with the bombastic three.

The dialogue box vanished, and a glowing figure came running at me from out of the fog. It caught me off guard, knocking me to the ground, and pulled a glowing knife to shank me. I threw the shape off and fired an explosive arrow through its "head". Another, bulkier, figure came running, but this time I was ready. I managed to catch it before the glowing shape could reach me, and dispatched it with an arrow to the chest. Another came at me, this time with a pistol. Fortunately, it had very bad aim. I pulled another arrow and thrust it into the figure's head, before kicking it backwards into another figure, the explosive mini-warhead neutralizing both. Hearing another coming, I spun around and clubbed it in the head with Sparrow, before firing an arrow into it. Three more came at once, and I attempted to snapfire an arrow into the nearest, and missed. One grabbed me from behind and threw me down, the second pulling a glowing handgun, and the third chuckling a ghostly laugh.

Then everything vanished.

I stood up and looked around the misty room, and it appeared as nothing had ever happened. I assumed I had "died". I declined beginning another round and walked out. I noticed Prophet digging through his locker with a shotgun over his shoulder.

"Hey Les, did you get those clearances finally?" He asked as he pulled a KN-44 out and slammed his locker shut. I nodded. "I'm going for a few rounds in the simhouse, do you want to come?" he asked as he walked towards the door I'd just left. "Actually, I just finished up in there" I replied, "Really? How many'd you get?" He asked, turning around with a raised eyebrow. "Four" I admitted, sheepishly shrugging. "Well", he continued, "I think you can do better than that, why don't you come with?" With nothing better to do, I obliged, and we walked back into the misty room.

He set up the session, and handed me his shotgun, alone with a few magazines for it. I fidgeted with it, as I couldn't find the pump on the bottom, or anywhere, for that matter. "It's semi" he informed me before I could ask, and with that the sim began.

I didn't see the first one coming, but Prophet easily downed it with a few headshots. The next came for me, and I was ready. One shotgun blast to the chest and a second to the head did the job nicely, but I nearly missed both, as the recoil was quite a kicker. A third came with a pistol, and just as bad aim, which was dealt with by a simultaneous headshot and shotgun blast. Four came from different angles, and I could only neutralize one before the second jumped me, and was shoved off by Prophet. The half-man helped me up, and we continued our spree.

Eventually, the sim got bored of us and spawned a few sniper figures deep in the fog, which managed to "kill" Prophet, and seconds later, me. With that, my new personal record of 19 kills was set, and Prophet barely halved his own of 49, scoring 23 of his own. As I left the Armory, I could hear Battery, Nomad, and Ruin talking to Prophet. "Getting all buddy-buddy in the simhouse with leafhead, eh Dave?" Battery teased. "Oh, I'll bet you two are gonna be great together, a true Romeo and Juliet couple!" Nomad commented. I slowed a bit, wanting to hear what he would say. He said something quiet, something I couldn't quite make out, and a blue flash from behind me was the end of that conversation. I shrugged and continued down the halls back to my room.

 **A/N: Well, it took longer than expected, ended up shorter than I wanted, and ended more abruptly than I planned, but hey, it works. Sorry about the less fluff, but hey, next chapter should make up for it.**


	5. Higher Cause

**A/N: First off, I'd like to thank the two guests who gave me some (tons) of background for what exactly multiplayer is, but I'd also like to say that I'm in a bit too deep to try and work my way backwards to the canon, so from here on out (and I guess the entire thing), this is AU because I'd rather it stay the way I have it.**

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I checked my clock. 11:27 am. I decided it was as good a time as any to start getting ready for the deployment at noon. I changed out of my normal clothes and put on the under-layer of Kevlar armor that I'd need to survive, then the green-camouflage hooded suit. I sat down on my bed and began putting on the exo-suit that gave us the super-human abilities that defined the corps, and ran the quick diagnostic through the DNI. I stopped by my locker, and grabbed my LOCUS rifle, as well as my recently-issued RK-5 burst pistol, and prepared to board the dropship once again. The objective being to capture a stronghold set up in an old Evacuation center. Why we were attacking this one specifically was beyond me, but the Commander was very sure to make it clear that everything had a higher cause, and it wasn't to be questioned. Today was a good day, it felt. I was in a good mood, the sun was out for the first time in at least a week, the birds were singing, and I even got a full night's sleep (probably thanks to Firebreak not loudly laughing through that fireproof suit of his all night).

I walked onto the open dropship and noticed that the only other Specialist onboard was Reaper, who was standing sentry opposite to the drop door. It (he?) didn't react as I moved across the bay to my seat of choice, which was in the corner furthest from the door. Next to enter was Spectre, who sat opposite me, probably for the same reason. Odd, he'd opted to bring along his bulky SVG-100 instead of the usual stealthy dual pistols. He never talked, and hardly ever communicated with anyone else on the team. He was brutally efficient in battle, so I never questioned him. After a minute or two of silence, Battery, Ruin, and Nomad entered the ship, and did more than enough talking for the other three of us. Eventually, Serapah, Firebreak, and finally Prophet made their ways onboard and we departed.

The ride was rather quiet, aside from the three arguing about something I made no effort to understand, and we arrived at the cluster of mossy buildings overlooking the ruins of a city. At first, it didn't seem to be all that special, and I almost thought we were in the wrong place, but the plane ducked and spun, and hovered mere feet over an old helipad. "We can't stay with you, it's too dangerous. Alert us when you've secured the base, and we'll be able to fly back in." the pilot announced. With that, the bay door opened and the nine of us jumped out into the quiet concrete jungle. Reaper and Prophet were carrying what looked to be a slightly deformed barrel, but the inscription on the side proved me otherwise. 'Respawn Relay'. At least we're in range this time, I thought to myself, and with that we silently made our way into the destitute city. Ruin, the unofficial leader of the squad, motioned for Spectre, Firebreak and I to split off to the left, where a subway tunnel waited, for Serapah, Nomad, and Battery to take the front, which continued into the sea of buildings, while Prophet, Reaper, and himself would take to the right, where the buildings thinned out into a town square of sorts.

The subway tunnels were very wide. Wide, damp, and dark. The silence that accompanied us above ground was absent, though, and replaced with the echoes of our footsteps. With the close quarters, I'd pulled my Sparrow off my back and had an arrow nocked and ready, warhead deactivated. In the concrete tunnel, explosives probably weren't the best idea, that is, if we wanted to live.

After following the abandoned tracks for a few minutes, we encountered a station, and hoisted each other up onto the platform. We made our way up and out into the light again. I shielded my eyes, as the sun now looked a hundred time brighter than before, but both Spectre and Firebreak had covered faces. The exit opened onto the side of what looked like the main street of the city. Tall, desolate buildings stood on either side, and long-blank electric billboards hung mostly in their places. We ducked into an alley, as we assumed that the target base would ideally be in this area. "We split up", Spectre proposed, in his synthesized, mechanical voice, "Scout for the enemy base, meet back here at 1337". I nodded, Firebreak gave a thumbs up, and with that, we divided.

I took to the roofs, staying low, hoping to spot out-of-place construction that could indicate foreign construction. This place had very similar architecture to that of my home city of Rio de Janeiro, so everything felt just a bit more natural. As I made my way from rooftop to rooftop, I thought back to my life before the Black Ops, before the Brazilian Special Forces, before I even got the leg up of a lifetime.

Back on the streets of Rio de Janeiro, to say I was poor was an understatement. When I was young, younger than I remember, both of my parents were killed in a house fire. I was taken into a foster family, but the parents were incredibly harsh, demanding, and borderline abusive, and the other children were violent, loud, and loved to make fun of me. On my ninth birthday, I took what I had and escaped out the bedroom window, and into a new life. I doubt they ever came looking for me.

I was shaken from my thoughts by Spectre, who came over the radios, announcing he'd found the enemy base, and the entire team was to converge across the street in the alley marked. After making my way back, I rejoined our group, and the nine of us sat to strategize on the best point of attack.

 **A/N: Well, a bit shorter than usual, but hey, I do what I can. Most of my writing is done in class when I** _ **should**_ **be taking notes, but I'll probably get by. Spring Break is coming up starting the 19** **th** **, so I can guarantee a chapter by then at the very least. Until then, I've been Pix, thanks for reading!**


	6. Higher Cause: Part 2

**A/N: Hey, a new chapter! And what is this? It's early! Also, I wanted to do a shout out to my friend (the one who inadvertently got me to write this) who made his own Specialist fic about Spectre, so that's pretty cool. It's called** _ **The Ghost Assassin**_ **by Mason6856, if you wanna check it out.**

0-0-0-Outrider-0-0-0

After a few minutes, we all gathered in the alleyway, and began plotting our plan of attack. Intel proved our suspicions right, that building was the target. I shoved the initial confusion of why we needed to capture this thing anyway, and, after a time of planning and strategizing, we'd formatted a plan that _should_ work. Of course, should and would are two different things. We gathered our weapons, loaded up, and set up for the attack. I climbed to the roof of a nearby building, and readied my sniper rifle. I laid on the edge of the roof, and watched for any hostiles that would try and get the jump on the rest of my team. As I sat in silence, I could hear a pair of footsteps behind me. I glanced down at the radar, but nothing appeared. The footsteps kept approaching, and I tensed up. Suddenly, I heard a pair of Reaper blades whir to life, and I kicked back, hoping to trip my attacker. I managed to strike his ankles and send him toppling to the ground. I stood up and grabbed my RK5, to see Spectre on the ground, twin Reaper blades still extended. He looked slightly different though. He was a bit more built than the Spectre I knew, and also appeared taller, had a much redder armor, but seemed much less skilled. He definitely wasn't the CDP's Spectre either, who I'd be able to spot almost anywhere thanks to his love to constantly pick me out. I fired a burst into the impersonator, finishing him off. I half expected the body to vanish into the mysterious clutches of the Respawn System, but alas, that did not happen.

As I laid back down to continue spotting, I alerted the rest of the team about the "Spectre" who jumped me. They said they'd had a similar incident, with a second Firebreak who'd appeared, Purifier ready, and nearly torched the entire squadron. Fortunately, he was not near as skilled or quick as the real Firebreak, and was burnt to a pile of ash before he could attack. So much for our cover of stealth, I thought, since the enemy likely already knew we were here. I continued scanning the area, and spotted a figure prone on a building opposite myself. I increased the zoom on my own rife some, and managed to pick out someone who looked strikingly similar to myself. I prepared to neutralize the threat, but she noticed me before I could line up the shot, and went full ham with her Drakon. I ducked behind a billboard and held my breath as multiple shots penetrated the thin wood. I leaned back a bit, and activated my vision pulse. Multiple pings appeared on my radar, and the enemy sniper was illuminated on my DNI, standing straight up and preparing to reload. I lined up my crosshair to the red outline of a head, pressed my rifle barrel against the thin wooden billboard, and pulled the trigger. I saw my counterpart collapse before the pulse wore off, and I carefully made my way back out to where I could still see the rest of the team making their way inside. For now, my job was done, I just had to wait for something to happen.

0-0-0-Prophet-0-0-0

We made our way into the seemingly abandoned business complex. I could hear Les fighting with someone on the rooftop nearby, She'll win, I told myself, as we ventured into the dank room. For the most part, it was really quiet, which I thought odd. No animals, no machinery, no nothing. We split up and began searching for something, anything that would signify hostiles. Since we hadn't been given anything to liberate or capture, so our plan was to kill everything that moved. Unprofessional? Well, yes, but orders were orders. The rules of war are decided by the victor anyway.

I descended down a flight of slippery concrete stairs, and into a storage area, or so it appeared. I shouldered my Brecci shotgun and began searching the shelves for anything out of place. I was skeptical of the intel about this 'enemy base' from the moment we entered, but then again, that could just be good camouflage. I jumped as a loud bang penetrated the air, but my radar confirmed it was simply Les, doing her job, and quickly went back to mine. "Enemy Prophet down" came her voice seconds later, and noticed a slight hitch in her voice, which I credited to lag and my poor connection through multiple thick concrete walls. I continued across the room, and down another flight of sketchy stairs to a hallway. With nothing more than a hunch, I set off to the left. As I walked, I noticed an odd echo. It was just one, where my footsteps echoed a second time. A normal person could play it off as a bad step or weird acoustics, but I wasn't a normal person. Something was up. I looked behind me, to be greeted with the long hallway behind me. I turned back and began to take another step onward, and heard a soft _pat_ mere instants before my foot hit the ground. I whipped the shotgun off my shoulder and fired off down the hallway behind me. Sure enough, one or two pellets collided with an invisible figure, the figure of a Spectre. Not our Spectre, according to my silent DNA call, to which our Spectre replied, confirming it was someone else.

The enemy Spectre rushed at me, twin Reaper blades extended, and lunged for my chest. I quickly stepped back and grabbed the fake's arm and plunged the blades into his stomach with his own arm. "Enemy Spectre down" I reported, to be followed with a few mingled "Rodger that"s. "Another one? Damn Spectre, you got an army of evil clones or something?" chimed in Les. "I would've made my own team if I did" replied our Spectre, and even through his slightly synthesized voice, it was obvious he was not amused. I chuckled to myself. Les has really bloomed socially over the last few weeks. Maybe she just never really got the chance to talk to people in a team like this before. I knew she was from Brazil, but that was pretty much it. "Shut up and get to work. We don't pay you to screw around" the Commander sounded over our comms. "Anyway, you're all dead. They got away."

And with that, the simulation abruptly terminated.

 **A/N: Well, this took a long time coming. Longer than I liked, but this nice little arc is now over. Hopefully (not definitely) I'll be able to get another chapter out during my Spring Break, which is all of next week. Until then, I've been Pix, and thanks for reading!**


	7. Moves and Countermoves

**A/N: First off, I'd like to thank all the wonderful people who have been reviewing my story. If you're a guest who's been following this, use the same name each time so I can tell you all apart, since it's great to see so many people enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it!**

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Today was a day off. The medics insisted each Specialist be given 30 hours recovery time for both their mental health and DNI safety after a vigorous simulation such as the last one.The barracks were mostly empty, as most of the guys had gone out drinking. I made my way to Prophet's room, hoping he was still here. I knocked on the door. Nothing. I tried again. Nothing. Well, I can scratch that off the list, I guess. I didn't want to go searching the entire base with my DNI offline, because I'd either get lost or waste the entire day. Fortunately, I did know my way to the training rooms, and I was getting the urge to go shoot something.

I made my way into the Simhouse, and set up a session on the attached console (did people really use these things back in the day?). I whipped out my dual automatic pistols and began. Today was all about aim for me. More specifically, aiming a two different people at once, so naturally, I set the hardlight figures to come from opposite sides, 2 at a time. I will say, aim and recoil compensation without my DNI was more difficult, due to its ability to estimate and compensate for recoil through my muscles without my input. I dispatched two with headshots, and prepared for the next set of two, which didn't come. A glitch? Maybe. I set them to spawn in intervals of 10 seconds, and at least 30 went by. Nothing. Then, faintly in the fog, I picked out a glowing figure, and assumed to be the random sniper I put in for variety. I aimed down at the distant figure, guessing where the chest was, and opened fire. Fortunately, I hit it. Unfortunately, I hit it in the leg and it quickscoped me down. Ugh, quickscopers. The CDP's Spectre was a quickscoper, and it drove me crazy. It's not sniping, it's unprofessional, and why it is even an option annoys me to no end.

I holstered my machine pistols and walked over to the door, where I had left my LOCUS and reset the simulation, this time altering the terrain to a hill overlooking the center of the room, and changed the enemies a bit. With everything good to go, I climbed the hill and went prone and got comfortable. With the fog retracted significantly, I picked off hardlight enemy after hardlight enemy. One managed to make its way up my hill, and I had to cheat a bit, using my machine pistol to spray it down. As I laid back down, I heard a pair of footsteps appear behind me. "Hey there Les, I've been looking everywhere for you" came the voice of Prophet. "Hey" I responded as I blew the head off another figure. "You got a minute?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Sure" I answered, getting up off the ground, as the simulation terminated around me. "My DNI's already back online" he answered the question before I even asked. "It's a newer prototype, so it doesn't need as long of a cooldown." Makes sense, I guess. We walked out of the armory and down a few halls into the meeting room. Within stood two men in suits, arms folded, eyes concealed under dark sunglasses. "I'll be outside" Prophet whispered to me as he excused himself and closed the door, leaving me alone with the two men.

"Miss Castillo," one of them started, "We are with the World Peace Preservation Force, and we would like to offer you a job…"

 **A/N: Kinda short chapter, I know, but I've been stuck for awhile. I was going to get this up Monday, but I got behind. On the upside, if you like this fic, I have another one (featuring Outrider) that's being updated alongside this one, so check that out if you want. Until then, I've been Pix, and I'll see you next time!**


	8. A Visit by Death

**A/N: Well, this was a long time coming, but hey, I've got a new chapter, so that's good. I can't believe how popular this story is getting, and I can't believe I made it this far without owning the game. Trust me, I'm trying desperately to get my hands on a copy of it but I live in a house with painfully anti-video game parents and little brothers and sisters who never give me a rest from their nagging. Seriously, most of these chapters I write during school or late at night, since those are the times that I am free from parents and siblings alike. Also, I made the maps much larger for story purposes. Without further ado, here we go.**

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"A job? Doing what?" I asked, unsure what skills I'd be needed for. Both men were silent for a moment, the one spoke up in a gruff, authoritative tone.

"Your particular gift with a rifle is one that few people possess. Fewer ever make a living with it. Fewer still catch our radar, and to be frank, miss, you are one of the best in the world at what you do. That's why we need you. We are the single effort of almost every country to sustain world peace."

"No disrespect, sir, but you aren't doing a lot of good right now, if you hadn't noticed, we're in the middle of a war." I interjected.

"Yes, you are. We don't prevent wars, that's impossible. We eliminate the targets that threaten enslavement and dictatorship across the entire world, people like Hitler, Osama bin Laden, Justin Bieber. We function above law, above justice. We are justice." The other man replied.

"So," I crossed my arms, "You want me to be a… a political assassin?" I asked, still unsure of exactly what they meant.

"In the simplest terms, yes, that is exactly what we want. We will pay tenfold what you receive monthly here, as well as provide your own quarters free of charge, and much nicer than you have here." I hesitated. The pay here _was_ rather substandard, as well as the barracks being dissatisfactory, but I made do. Sure, I'd killed hundreds of people in my lifetime, not counting the CDPs, who just kept coming and coming, no longer afraid of death, but most were out of a fear of losing my own life. Could I sit on a rooftop and shoot a man who was giving a speech or enjoying a meal with his family?

"You can have some time to think this over, this is obviously a rather important decision for you. Next week at this time, we expect an answer. Do not tell anyone what we discussed here, and remember, there are very few people in the world who get this chance. Think it through well. Thank you for your time." One of the men informed me, before they left the room, leaving me sitting at the table running my hands through my hair.

On one hand, any and all complaints I had about this place would be out the window, gone and forgotten, but so would everything I stood for. As much as I tried to convince myself I'd be able too, popping some politician in the head because I was told was just something I couldn't justify. My, laying on a roof somewhere, in no danger and at complete peace, versus some unsuspecting man who wanted to make a difference in his world. If I'd learned anything from my days in the streets, it's that karma will _always_ come back to bite you in the butt. I mean, I had no family to support, no immediate need of more money (although, Black Ops didn't pay for personal items, and as much as I hated the idea, I really needed new clothes) and for the most part, I was doing alright. Not amazing, but alright. It was a classic battle wills, greed versus standards. I the closest I ever was to killing a civilian was back in the Brazilian Armed Forces, before Black Ops, where I accidentally shot a medic who was desperately trying to patch a wounded soldier up enough to get him out of the area. To be fair, there was an armored vehicle, the gunner of which I intended to shoot, and I couldn't actually see the medic until it was too late, and my shoot missed the gunner, striking the field doctor in the arm.

I racked my head, but I had a week, right? This could wait.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The nine of us leapt from the VTOL Dropship and into battle, today in a snowy plot of land near a mansion. I ran up to the roof of a nearby building and went prone, lining up my scope for anyone who decided to leave the mansion through the front door. This battlefield was rather large, so I waited. My thoughts wondered to the decision I had a mere three days to make. I was leaning towards taking the job, honestly, as Firebreak had gone back to his usual habit of laughing manically all night, probably watching some dumb movie or whatever, and I'd give just about anything to make that stop. I snapped back to reality in time to miss the enemy Seraph making a break for a nearby shed, but bolted a new round and managed to land a perfect headshot on the enemy Ruin following. I alerted the team and prepared myself for the next shot.

I did not, however, check my back before lining up another shot, and also did not hear the whirring of two reaper blades. As they sprung to life. The last thing I heard was my own cries of pain.

I respawned, as usual, with three or four other Specialists that were all killed around the same time, and took off back into the fray. Not thirty seconds later, while I was still within earshot of the spawn area, I heard a loud, sustaining cry of pain, more intense than any normal death scream. I immediately turned around and sprinted to the respawn area, only to with I didn't.

A distorted figure lay on the ground, hardly recognizable except for the trademark emblem of Firebreak on one of the shoulders, if you could even call them that anymore. Prophet, Battery, and Ruin were already there, looking down on their disfigured comrade who lay, screaming through his fireproof mask. I was mortified, unable to move, just stare as Prophet and Ruin took turns headshotting the pyrotechnic over and over, trying to force a proper respawn. Even the CDP Specialists stopped to try and help, using their variety of special weaponry to initiate different typed of spawns.

Ten minutes later, and his head was no longer distinguishable from the pretzel-like contorted form of Firebreak's body, and command broadcast a message to everyone's DNI to stop. Reaper stepped up and, warning up its minigun-style Scythe gun, it mercilessly decimated Firebreak until nothing but a bloody stretch was left across the ground.

He didn't respawn after that.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

I sat in my bed, listening to the silence. Silence was something I'd welcome any time, but not now. All I wanted was to hear Firebreak's incoherent mumbling and rambling through the thin base wall. He was gone. Wholly and truly gone. After nearly a year being killed over and over, only to regenerate as if nothing happened, I had an even harder time accepting death. It was sobering, in a way, that I couldn't just go die all willy-nilly, that there could come a day when I become the fleshy blob on the respawn ground, when I get razed to bits by Reaper.

Firebreak didn't deserve it, nobody did. He just came into the battle as everyone else did, by orders with no say. I hardly knew the guy, except for listening to him mumble all night, but he was a damn good soldier. He saved me many times over, and I did the same for him, but he did nothing to outright deserve that kind of inhumane, torturous death. It should have never happened.

If I left this place, I'd be safe from it.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 **A/N: Well, sorry guys. Firebreak didn't do nuffin, but I needed some story points. Plus, this was getting a little boring. Anyway, I'll be updating my other story (Also featuring everyone's favorite team of nine. Nine Mercenaries? Nine Specialists? I dunno, go check it out. Until then, I've been Pix, thanks for reading!**


	9. Not a Chapter, a Thank You

**Hey guys, not an actual chapter, but the new one is in the works and should be out over the weekend! Anyway, I'd just like to take the time to personally thank every single one of you that have read, shared, and reviewed my story. As of yesterday, this is how my most read (2,500 VIEWS!), most reviewed, and most followed story by a loooong shot. Who would've though that a joke to a friend would evolve into this?!**

 **Guest K: I'm not sure exactly how long you've been following this, but thanks so much for the comments!**

 **Guests: I don't know exactly how many of you there are, but thank you guys for all the facts, feedback, and support you've given me!**

 **DressiestSphinx25000: Thanks! I'll do my best to make it as enjoyable to read as it is to write!**

 **Random User: f^~^ Glad you like it so much!**

 **Castle: Thanks for the info, I'm figuratively blind when it comes to CoD lore!**

 **Anon: It came! And so will the next and the next and the next :D**

 **Pixelz223: Thanks for the fav and follow! I plan to make this as long as possible!**

 **Anonymouz: I can't believe there aren't more tbh, I guess nobody appreciates the poor Specialists :P**

 **H0n3yGlaz3: Thanks for the first review ever on this story! Look at what you helped start!**

 **Also, on a more important note, I could always use a bet reader for this story, just sayin...**

 **Sadly, I STILL dont own the game DX I am doing everything I can to get a copy, and I did get to play recently, so I'm refreshed for now. Next chapter will be sometime over the weekend, so until then, I've been Pix, and thank you all!**


	10. Paper Clips

**A/N: Hey, here we are with another chapter, and I also got to play some more BO3 (but I still don't own it D: ) and so my feel for the characters is slightly renewed I guess.**

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The entire base was in complete lockdown, no battles, no leaving, no nothing. Nobody was really doing anything, as was I, as we tried to cope with the fact that Firebreak was truly and wholly gone, and that the same could happen to us. Today was also the day those men were expecting an answer, but I figured they would not be allowed in until the lockdown was over.

Of course, I was wrong.

I was lazily sitting in my room, playing with a paper clip I'd found, bending it into various shapes and curving it around my finger when Battery (rather rudely) burst into my room and informed me that there were three men here to see me. Right on time too, exactly seven days, zero hours since they first offered me this job, and I was still as nervous as the first day. I had my answer, I was just incredibly anxious on if I'd regret it in the future.

I stepped back into the same meeting room we'd met in exactly a week ago, and I sat down in the exact same chair I'd sat in a week ago, across from the same three men I'd met a week ago, yet something was different. A slight, hardly noticeable shimmer in the corner, something I was trained to single out, the shimmer of Active Camouflage. I couldn't make out an outline, and tried to not focus on it to draw the men's attention to it, but it was suspicious.

"So, Miss Castillo, I assume you've made your decision?" the tallest man of the group asked, starting off the short conversation.

"Yes, I have, and as grateful as I am for your offer-" at that both other men shifted in their chairs near identically, odd "-I am going to have to decline your offer." I answered speaking as clearly and cordially as I could through the nervousness that prevailed. It was silent for a minute, before the first man spoke once again.

"Well, we respect your decision, and thank you for considering it." I sighed inwardly. That went way better than I thought it would. Maybe this thing would just blow over and everyone could go have with peace of mind. "However," he continued, "If you've noticed, nobody has ever heard of this organization, and we intend to keep it that way." He said as the two other men stood and roughly restrained me, while the first man pulled a silent pistol from his briefcase. How'd that get through security, especially while the base was on maximum lockdown?

"It's a shame, Castillo, we could've really used you. No hard feelings?" he chided as he put the barrel to my head. "Last chance." I stuttered, stuck between yes and no. Respawn was down for maintenance, and I'm sure he knew that, otherwise I'd just let him shoot me and take the trip through, but now it was real life or death.

At that moment, the cloaked figure partially dropped his camo and headshot both men holding me back with a familiar loadout of two painted MR6s before throwing the man in from of me down and disarming him. Only when the man fully uncloaked did I see the form of Spectre, who had his fist on the suited man's neck, preparing his signature Reaper blades.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" the assassin questioned loudly in his synthesized voice, and suddenly, the snake became the mouse. I stood, stunned by the sudden events as I watched the one Specialist I rarely ever spoke to and barely knew save my life.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Hours later, the entire matter was straightened out. There was no peacemaking organization, there was no record of any men entering the base at all. Why Spectre decided to camp out in the corner and what tipped him off was beyond me, and he wasn't talking either. What it meant, I didn't know. Maybe it meant nothing, maybe it meant everything. I sat once again on my bed, twisting the same paper clip into the shape of a person.

I couldn't decide who I meant it to be though. Spectre? Myself? I settled on making two slightly different paperclip people, the tallest one was Spectre and the original became me. I got carried away, making ten in total, one for each Specialist, and then one of the commander, and stopped when I realized there were no more clips in the desk drawer. I stood them on my nightstand and took in the scene. Except for the commander, we were pretty much a family. A dysfunctional, military, unorthodox family, sure, but a family none the less. We stood up for each other, helped each other up, and relied on each other.

Only now could I fully understand that.

 **A/N: Hey, thanks to they guys who pointed out I uploaded the wrong chapter, it was like 1 in the morning when I finished this, so yeah. Until next time, I've been Pix, and thanks for reading!**


	11. Degradation

**A/N: So remember when I said we had 2,500 views? Yeah, now it's 3,500. Guys, I can't even begin to tell you how amazingly ecstatic I am that this blew up as huge as it did. Anyway, onto the story!**

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I sat up after another night of refreshing (and eerily quiet) sleep, and headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat, since there was still a lockdown in effect and apparently, they hadn't found a new firebreak as of yet. I was getting used to having the DNI offline now, as I effortlessly poured a bowl of cereal the way normal people do. Of course, I had to look at the bowl and judge it all by eye, which was still taking some getting used to. Imagine, I went from not being able to afford a box of corn flakes to having to get used to pouring one without a technological crutch.

It felt odd to just live a normal life for a month or two, after constantly dying in the battlefield only to rush in again and get a few kills before dying once more. I felt like I had to be doing something, but there was nothing to do but wait. Not to say I was bad at waiting, far from it, after years of picking off targets with pinpoint accuracy, waiting was possibly my best trait. But waiting with a rifle to my shoulder and the scope to my eye was different. It felt dangerous, like any moment could be my last, I always felt anxious hoping that the opportunity would come, but now, just sitting at a table waiting for something to happen, it was a new kind of wait, and a very boring one.

Nobody else was up, save for Seraph, who didn't ever seem to sleep, and was quietly reading a book in one of the rec room recliners. I finished my bowl and dumped it in the sink before starting the coffee maker to finish waking me up. I leaned against the counter as the machine slowly filled the kettle with caffeinated holy water and mused about what the new Firebreak would be like.

Honestly, I was afraid that I would be as biased toward the new guy as Prophet said he was to me. One thing was for sure, that whoever the new guys is, he wasn't going to be the old Firebreak, and, as mixed as I was about it, there would be no more maniacal laughing all night, no "strategic" Purifying mid battle, and no more of those perfectly placed hellstorms that we'd all owed a few killstreaks too.

Well, that was assuming they found someone soon. It had been almost two weeks and no news had been given on anything. Even Reaper agreed it was "Beyond normal patterns and behavioral habits" or something like that, but hey, he agreed, and that was good enough for me. I'm sure it takes plenty of time and energy to find someone who's willing(?) to be killed over and over again in the name of whatever Black Ops was trying to accomplish, as well as being able bodied and possessing the psyche to endure the purgatory. Really, I just stopped thinking about dying ten times a day and tried to accept it as life, but I remember being the new guy and spending nights sitting awake frantically trying to figure out if I was still me. From what Prophet had told me, the new guy before me was actually Battery, but she'd been around for upwards of seven or eight years before the old Outrider incident.

I almost wish I got to know the old Outrider, from how he was described, he sounded like a pretty cool guy. I'm sure that Battery probably feels the same, and the new Firebreak likely will too. I sighed to myself and looked up to see Nomad coming into the kitchen and taking a can of beer out of the fridge. Apparently, he isn't a coffee person.

"How's it hangin', Leafhead?" he gruffly asked as he popped the tab.

Y'know, I never thought I'd miss the fighting." I mused aloud. "Now all I can think about is getting back out there."

"I feel ya, man, this has been one 'a the longest ceasefires we've ever 'ad. I mean, is it really that hard t'a find a guy who can set things on fire? With you, it took 'em less tha a week, with Batt'ry, it took 'em only three days! I'd say they're gett'n awful picky about who t'a pick up.

"Well, hopefully they can find somebody soon. I don't wanna just sit around here and rot…"

"Oh, speakin of, they're op'nin Respawn back up at noon."

"Why?"

"Degradation. Y'never heard about this?"

"No, what's degradation?"

"The bodies Respawn makes on'y three weeks tops, and start slowin down at aroun' two. Have you been feel'n sluggish lately?"

"Yeah, but I thought it was just anxiety taking it's toll."

"Nah, sunshine, it's just y'r body fallin apart!"

Well, that's great. Nomad left me with that, opting to head out to greet Ruin, who was just emerging from his room. Well, no wonder they don't let people just quit here, they'd be dead in less than a month. I wish they'd told me that when I signed up, or any time after that, for that matter.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

I headed to the Respawn Room of the base, as it was just past noon and I was rather creeped out at the aspect of my body slowly degenerating. As I neared the stark white chamber, I heard a gunshot followed by the sound of a body dropping. Well, how nice of them to start without me. I turned the corner and found the rest of the Specialists, sans Reaper, waiting for their turn to take the dive through Respawn.

When my turn came, I took the MR6 from Spectre, who was just leaving, and stepped into the white room. I raised the pistol to my forehead, guessing where would be fatal with my lack of suicide experience, and pulled the trigger. The last thing I felt was falling backwards.

What felt like instantly after my eyes closed, they opened again and I was standing less than a foot from where I fell. I looked down, and was confronted with a girl laying face-up on the floor, a .45 caliber bullethole in her forehead. She wore the same tanktop and sweatpants as I did, had the same unmade hair as I did, possessed the same eyes and facial features as I did, had the exact body proportions and dimensions and I, and held the same pistol I just shot myself with. Just looking down at the lifeless image of myself, I felt sick. It had been over a year of battling, stabbing, and bludgeoning on the battlefield, and never in my life had I seen my own dead body, and there was something eerily terrifying about it.

Shakily, I took the pistol from the dead girl's slowly fading hand and left the room, handing off the pistol to Seraph as I went. I couldn't stop thinking about it, it was like looking into a magic mirror, seeing the shell of what I was at my feet. I almost felt guilty, ending her life, although, was it mine? Was I still myself?

Quickly, I veered off the way I was headed and made my way to the ladies' room, where I threw up.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 **A/N: Well, yeah, new chapter. I definitely think I'll be prioritizing this story, and guess what? I might actually be getting Black Ops 3 finally! (Right after Infinite Warfare was announced, RIP Infinite Warfare ) So wish me luck and I might actually know what I'm writing about next chapter! Yay! Until then, I've been Pix, thanks for reading!**


	12. Water and Fire

**A/N: Well, another new chapter. I'm giving this story double priority since it's significantly more fun to write than my other stories in progress (But you should totally go check them out, they're pretty cool). So, I also listened to all the Specialist transmissions so at least I can pick out their relations and stuff a little better, and I'll do some more explanation in the closing note, so this is going to be a kinda short chapter. Anyway, let's get to it!**

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A few days later, intel came in.

They found a new Firebreak.

They sent us most of the information on the new guy. He was Austrian, which was new to all of us. His name was Krystof Hejek, 6'4, 195 pounds, all around, a fairly standard guy. Passed training, but only 18 years old, which would make him the youngest Specialist here, closely followed by me. He was being transferred straight from juvie to here after burning his house and a warehouse down, as well as killing his father and nearly killing his sister. What makes him the most qualified person of all the other tactical arsonists was beyond me, since his profile literally marked him as "mentally unstable".

Not six hours later, the ship arrived, and we made our ways out to see the new guy. He was led by two jailers, but was grinning as he was led in our direction. We followed the precession to the infirmary where they implanted his DNI and hooked him up to Respawn.

A day later, he was stable and we all watched as he was nervously led to the Respawn Room, where all of us had bitter and embarrassing memories of taking the dive for the first time in front of the team, as well as having recently being refreshed. He looked much less confident as Ruin volunteered to give him the first death of many to come. The boy was now almost visibly shaking as Ruin took as long as he could to comically line up the shot, which only made it funnier. Finally, one of the CO's told him to "get on with it" and, without warning, Ruin landed a perfect 3-round burst into the new Firebreak's head. It only took a few seconds for him to reappear, and the techs were sure to make his old body disappear as quickly as possible to prevent mental breakdown too early.

With that, Firebreak was officially assigned to active duty along with the rest of us, and the next battle was set up for two days from now. I showed the kid to his room (which was right next to mine) before deciding to hit the sack early. It was only 1930, but I was really tired from the last few days of constant training in the Simhouse, as well as still trying to wrap my head around the admittedly terrifying aspect of my body decaying beneath me. Back on the streets, at least I had the comfort and confidence of my own body being there when nothing else was, but here, there was nothing but my team. I glanced back up at the little paper clip family I made (Although I removed the commander long ago, plus, I needed something to hold my drawings together) and took ground in the fact that whatever happened, at least I had my team, my new "family".

 **A/N: Ok, so, now that I actually know what I'm doing, and since I'm about to actually get the game, I guess I'll explain a few things.**

 **The old Firebreak was a placeholder character, and Krystof was not used twice.**

 **Since Krystof is new to the battlefield, he will be a bit squeamish and inexperienced for a few chapters, as he spoke about in his Transmissions, although he'll be up to speed soon enough**

" **The Project" here is The Respawn Network, and there are no spies in the team, but they are being observed by the staff at Lazarus Base (The place where this all takes place) and the ultimate goal is to live forever, the holdup being the short lived bodies it produces.**

 **The CDP base is also competing to create a better system to sell it to the army and public first, hence the battles and agreement between them. Also, CDP found very similar individuals to those at Lazarus, but they are not clones.**

 **This isn't a simulation, because that's just kind of depressing to see these incredibly well-made characters reduced to killing AIs to be pawned off.**

 **Prophet and Reaper suffer from Degradation as well, although it is a different form and is why they are also being studied.**

 **You should totally go spam my friend Mason6856 and his Specialist story (called "The Ghost Assassin", featuring Spectre) with reviews telling him to make a part 2 because I really want him to keep working on it and it's pretty good. We also kinda traded a few ideas (I borrowed his Spectre and he borrowed my Simhouse) and it's pretty good so far.**

 **Anyway, that's about it, but hey, double update! I mean, it's been pretty quiet in the reviews section lately, and those reviews are what really get me motivated to put hours upon hours into these chapters. I have finals coming up Wednesday and Thursday of next week, and then I'm out of school, so I hope to get another chapter put before they start and another when they're over. Until next time, I've been Pix, thanks for reading!**


	13. A New Adversary

**A/N: Dang, it's been forever. I do have an actual reason though, my pc's charger stopped working and I just got a new one (apparently my kind is super hard to find or something) but now that it's back, I can get back to writing!**

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We crammed into the VTOL ship for the first time in a long time, and readied ourselves for the short flight to the battlefield. Today, I was feeling good, excited even, to get back into the field and, more importantly, get out of the base. It was a short flight to the area, this time what appeared to be a small shopping mall situated neatly next to the snowy coast.

We hit the ground running and I slid against a crate. Apparently the CDPs landed before us this time. Today, I had opted to ditch my LOCUS in favor of a more versatile weapon, the ICR-1. Oddly, in the base, I couldn't find any faster magazine attachments, so I simply taped a ready clip to the bottom of the loaded one, for conveniences sake. I ducked my head down as the deafening shot of an SVG-100 tore through the wooden crate I was hiding myself behind.

I leaned my gun over my shoulder and tried to use the reflection in the reflex sight to pick out any targets, but opted to randomly spray as suppression, as the blurry glass didn't yield any assistance in aiming. Fortunately, Ruin managed to heave his LMG on top of the concrete barrier he was using for cover and opened fire, driving the CDPs back enough to make a push on one of the Hardpoints. Spectre expertly dropped the enemy sniper, using his own (thankfully, suppressed) SVG.

With a clear coast, I vaulted over the sharded crate and towards the first Hardpoint, where the enemy Nomad was already waiting, a minefield of H.I.V.E.s deployed. Wary of the buzzing insects, I rolled a grenade around the corner and used the blast to clear most of the gellish blobs around the point. I pushed the edge and downed the enemy survivalist, before proceeding to capture the small glowing circle.

I began to leave, but noticed a subtle buzzing noise above me, and looked up to see a swarm of devilish insects descending like a hellstorm. There wasn't anything I could do, as the glowing bee-like creatures began ripping through my body. I threw my head back and screamed in unbearable pain as the tiny insects ate through my clothes, arms, and legs. After a second, my screams died into a quiet whimper as I lay helplessly and limblessly on the ground, bleeding out after the hive decided it was done with me. The enemy Nomad, fortunately, had returned to admire his handiwork, before deciding to pop me in the head to end it.

I respawned with muddled memories of the end of my last life. What I did remember was the CDP's bushman's stupid grin and a stinging soreness in my appendages. I concluded it was a H.I.V.E. that ended me and ran back into the fray, alongside the new Firebreak, who was brandishing a scorched 48 Dredge. We both rushed the 3rd point, which was abandoned, according to the radar.

We entered the room, and to our expectations, there were no defenders. This was unlike CDP though, to leave an entire point undefended. Sure, they were idiots, but there's no way they're _this_ stupid.

As soon as the though passed through my mind, an invisible Spectre, presumable the CDP's burst from the shadows and gave Firebreak a surprise decapitation via his signature Reaper blades before dodging my startled spray and jabbing my in the gut. At first, I thought I just want feeling the pain, but there was no light blue glow, no crackling sound, he simply retracted them and punched me.

He took advantage of the momentary pause and knocked me to the ground, before planting a foot solidly on my stomach.

"What a pretty picture we have here…" the masked man chided, his synthesized voice only adding to the creepiness. "A great hunter finally brought down by a mighty beast of prey." I scoffed at the idea, and tried to shift my weight over my quiver. "And do you know what that beast will do?" he asked, obviously with an answer in mind, "that beast will make the hunter suffer for every single one of the beast's brethren that fell to the hunter's bow." The assassin leaned over me, pressing hard on my gut, and unclipped one of his throwing hatchets. He reeled back and stuck me with the small axe square in the center of my chest. I tried my hardest to suppress a cry, and only flinched a bit. The one thing I learned was to never give the enemy the satisfaction of your voice.

"Oh," he commented, "not enough for you? Here, what about… this?" he mockingly questioned as he unpinned an EMP from his belt and dropped it next to my head. At first, I was confused, but as everything violently went offline, I remembered the DNI's pain suppression systems. I'm sure he was grinning under that hideous mask of him as he dragged the hatchet down my body, staining my white camouflage a dark red. I did my best to keep a stoic face, and focused on my paling reflection in his faceplate. I stared defiantly into my own eyes as the assassin started hacking my gut open, even though the unbearable searing and slashing feeling surpassed anything I'd ever felt and likely ever would feel.

"Oh, do you want it to stop?" he again cruelly joked as tears streamed uncontrollably from my eyes. I did nothing, only blinked in a sorry attempt to stop the flood of salty tears. "You're in luck then. But hear these words. Next time I see your name in the killfeed and a teammate dropping, I can't guarantee that it'll be near as pretty as this time…" he trailed of before cloaking and vanishing, but he did remember to finish me with another quick headshot.

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 **A/N: Well, that's all I've got time to do, but hey, looks like CDP's Spectre is becoming more important, so expect more chapters between these two. Anyway, until then, I've been Pix, thanks for reading!**


	14. Keep Your Friends Close

**A/N: Back again, new chapter. Not much more to say.**

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I sat in bed, thinking. Honestly, what could the stuck-up, deceitful, self-righteous enemy Spectre really do to me? Kill me? I'm sure he had something much more devious in mind, but honestly, death has become more of a sweet escape of the mattress below me than a foreboding end. I mean, Respawn is pretty much there to catch us before we die, and from my experience, it pulls us out much earlier than it could be doing, which I'm thankful for. I'm not going to let one measly soldier stop me from doing what I do best, and if he has a problem with that, he can take it up with my rifle.

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The dropship spun around, opening the back hatch to reveal the cracked concrete of a long abandoned aquarium. As usual, sniper first, I thought as I led the charge towards the center, where the two warring teams would meet. I broke off halfway there, and took a promising side street around to where a rancid green pool exposed most of the area before me. I partially concealed myself, and went prone to block off any flankers who might be, well, flanking us. I waited for Ruin's signal to see whether we had a hold on mid or not, and to my dismay, we'd lost mid. I fell back, not wanting to be alone and surrounded, to where Battery, Firebreak, Nomad, and Ruin were regrouping, as everyone else was currently Respawning. We formed up on a stairway that was relatively easy to hold, and with no hesitation, I popped the head off the enemy Seraph who was rushing blindly around the long corner. We managed to down six of them with only one fatality on our side, mostly thanks to Firebreak's Dredge (which, I've gotta say, he's become a true marksman with) and after the rest of the team Respawned, we made a push on the center of the aquarium. I swapped my LOCUS for my RK5, since I was hopeless at quickscoping and there wasn't much room for long ended sniping.

We managed to take the center, and held it for the rest of the match. Honestly, I fought the hardest I think I ever have. Something I was not usually a part of was the end of the match, which was simply moving the Respawn area out of the arena so that everyone could load up and leave, but generally they waited for the snipers to die to start it. Today was a lucky day, I guess, as teammates started dropping and quit rejoining the fight, and with the sun hanging low on the horizon, I assumed the endgame has begun. Soon enough, there were five people left, then four, then three, then two, and with two kills under my belt, I was feeling confident I could be the last (wo)man standing.

As luck would have it, the last CDP was Spectre. Of all the people, of all the possibilities, Spectre. We faced off for a second, and he took the first shot, which I narrowly dodged. With something that I can only describe as pure luck, I whipped my LOCUS off my shoulder, hastily brought the scope to my eye, and took no time to focus before letting loose a shot and… I hit him? Sure enough, the assassin fell with the boom of my rifle.

"What's that about next time I kill one of your teammates, huh?!" I yelled at the corpse. "You'll do what?!"

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I left the battle that day feeling better about myself. Besides just coming off a win, I set a personal record according to the "scorecard", and I showed that idiot a thing or two. I was a bit surprised, honestly, since both Spectres generally kept their word to the bitter end. Maybe he was just trying to play mind games, and if so, he should've tried harder, because he did was help me out. As I laid on the couch studying my card, I noticed our Spectre coming up to me.

"Hey, Outrider."

"Yes?"

"Can I have a word?" Since when did Spectre want to talk to anyone? Maybe he heard me earlier.

"Sure."

"In private?" Ok, seriously, what could he possibly have to say that he couldn't say out here? There was hardly anyone in the commons anymore, but I gave in.

"Uh, sure. My room work?" He nodded, and I picked myself up off the couch and led him to my room. He closed the door behind him, and I sat down on my bed.

"What's up?" I asked, casually putting my elbows on my knees and resting my head on my hands. Wordlessly, he shifted a moment, before sliding a combat knife out of his sleeve. "Spectre?" I asked nervously as he approached me. Frozen in panic, I was powerless to save myself as he sunk the blade deep into my shoulder.

"He told you he'd make your life hell if you didn't let up." He muttered as he left the room and shimmered into nonexistence, closely followed by my cries.

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 **A/N: Next chapter should be out soon, I've got lots of time to write now that I'm not doing anything, so look forward to that. Anyway, Until next time, I've been Pix, and thanks for reading!**


	15. and Your Enemies Closer

**A/N: So, again, new chapter. Really, I should stop these Author's Notes, but they're kinda fun to write. Plus, they make the chapter look longer f(^-^)**

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The rest of the team was quick to the scene, and most of them were ready to voice each and every "I never trusted that guy…" they had. Of course, the snake decided to wait until Friday to strike, since Respawn was down for the weekend, and I had to be treated the old fashioned way, by a team of medics, who seemed more than happy to finally have a patient. Honestly, of the three of four "doctors" stationed at Lazarus Base were of the less experienced sort, since they were mainly there to treat the engineers and their afflictions, not a soldier.

I'm no expert, but I think rashly yanking the knife out of the wound without any inspection is not the best thing to do. Profuse bleeding and a spat between the doctors confirmed my suspicions. Fortunately, after a half hour or so of questionable medicinal practice, I was released and, aside from a shoulder that would be well out of commission for the weekend (that Respawn would correct on Monday) I would be alright. One thing those doctors certainly knew how to do was bandage an arm, as it was possibly the neatest sling I'd ever seen.

The higher ups were, understandably, in outrage. An agent that had been part of the program for many years suddenly turning in an act of pure treason. They questioned me, and I told them what happened, and for the most part, bounties were placed, orders were given, and a manhunt began within the hour.

And that idiot decided to just come back. Well, he tried, but gate security were quick to apprehend the masked man. Against every strategy he could've used, he even tried to play ignorant, and honestly, he did a pretty good job of it. I was almost convinced that he didn't know want was going on, but the memory his masked face inches from mine as he drug that blade through my shoulder dispelled any doubt that he deserved a court martial, at the very least.

I opted to go see him, and maybe get some information. The cells weren't too far from the Specialist's sect of the base, and since I was unlikely to try and break him out, I managed to talk my way back to where he was being held.

"Thank god you're here Les, please, tell me what happened, tell them I didn't do it! I swear on a bible that I'm innocent! It's some mistake!" he pleaded through the mask that I've never seen removed.

"Oh really, you want to know what happened, asshat? _You_ want _me_ to tell you what _you_ did? I've never seen someone like you resort to playing the dumb card, but if it's rhetorical answers you want, then we can start where you led me away from everyone else, shut me in my room, and shanked me in the arm. Any of this ringing a bell in that deceitful shithole of a head? What about where you tell me how you and the other Spectre are working together to give me hell, and how it's only going downhill from here? Was this part of that plan? You can sit there all you want playing stupid, but you aren't fooling anyone." I half-shouted at him, and he sat pensively as I vented everything I knew to his stupid, hidden face.

"So, I stabbed you, with a combat knife I'd assume. What happened to that knife?" He questioned.

"The medics tore it out of me and kept it for inspection, what do you think?" I irritably replied.

"And how many military issue, one of a kind, impossible to publically obtain combat knives are in the armory?" He continued asking.

"There are nine. Eight, since you took one and thought it'd be funny to shank me."

"Really? Go check right now and I can guarantee there's nine knives in the armory, and the medics still have the other one." He challenged. This would be the final nail in the coffin, I thought, since there's no way he could plant a new one in the armory and there's no other way to get them. The only branches issued the unique knives are Lazarus Base and whatever those CDP cronies called their sorry excuse for a base.

But he was right. There were nine knives. And the medics had passed the knife on to the forensic team, who were finding foreign fingerprints that were almost completely erased by the person who left them. I went back to Spectre's cell, filled with mixed confidence that it could've been anyone under that mask.

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 **A/N: Part 2 of 3 or 4… just what is all this chaos? As always, thank every single one of you for the support lately, and I hope to keep this story running as long as I can, even when the inevitable yearly sequels keep pouting on… Still looking to actually get Black Ops 3 by the way…**


	16. Footloose

**A/N: Sorry this one took so long! I've had things in my actual life to do lately, so I had to do all those plus plan ahead a few chapters before I started this one. Buuut, now it's here! Enjoy!**

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After talking more with Spectre, who I was weary to believe, although his convincing and unquestionable points were certainly causing me to sway more to his side. The nail in the coffin would be what the forensic lab brought back, since they said there were a few leads.

The next day, the team returned with evidence of who the attacker was, and who they would not name. Curious, I thought, how I wasn't even going to be allowed the name of my attacker. It was almost like the base was trying to leave me in the dark. Whoever it was, our Spectre was released, and life pretty much went back to normal. Well, as normal as you could consider it. The day after was very quiet, like people were still waiting for something to happen. Fortunately, nothing did.

What baffled me most of all was how, no matter how had I pried and pushed, I couldn't get any answers at all. Even Spectre wasn't giving an inch as to how everything blew over so fast. An assault on a high-ranking specialist, and the entire thing fades out of existence in less than 24 hours? I mean, I knew Lazarus Base was different, but there's no way that these kind of things just slide.

I resolved to play along, for now, and see what happens. I'll figure it out in time.

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Another battle came and we flew in, fought, and flew out just as any normal day. Even the CDP Spectre didn't do anything that made me think there was still something to come. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was a phantom pain in my shoulder that came with the recoil of my rifle. I tried to just let things happen and try and be normal, but I couldn't help but check over my shoulder after every shot. Just in case.

After the day's battle, I went to Prophet for answers, since he was generally in the know when it came to the dynamics of the base. He, as everyone else, was at a loss for answers, but he said he was noticing a pattern in the things that happen. He played it off a hunch, but he said that following the "rule" of the events in the past months, the next person to fall to misfortune would be myself. Again. He showed me a page he's been making, covered by essentially a timeline of evets that fell right in line with a function he'd made, and sure enough, he'd predicted the old Firebreak's demise, however, the enemy Spectre's threats were nowhere to be found. I didn't bring it up. Down the line was my name with a scribbled out word under it, then Battery, then Nomad, all with short descriptions of what could happen. I asked why mine was greyed out, and he told me I didn't want to know.

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We sat in the dropship, preparing for insertion. Prophet warned me to try and not die, which was odd, considering that that was my goal every day anyway, but I took note and did my best to preserve myself. Unfortunately, my CDP counterpart didn't get the memo, and was quick to dispatch me before I could get her behind my crosshair.

I respawned, and broke into a dash. I didn't get far, though, since as soon as my left foot reached for the ground, I stumbled to the dirt and sat up to find my left foot _just not there_. I panicked. This happened to Firebreak, a respawn defect, and every time he was killed, he got worse and worse. Was this what Prophet predicted? My death? Why wouldn't he tell me? I tried to get up and move, since there were no doctors near, and the very least I could do was defend the insertion point, even though there was no objective or reason to hold the area anyway.

But the enemy Nomad still found me. He got lost and was just aimlessly wandering the map, and was more than happy for a free kill. I didn't see him coming, and by the time I did, it was far too late to protest or save myself. I respawned moments later and was afraid to move, but after I took a step, I was relieved to find both of my feet intact and my entire body in one piece.

Prophet did indeed predict my death by respawn glitches, and he was baffled when I sat down next to him in the dropship on the way back to home base. Still, there was a glitch, although I was weary to call it a random glitch at this point, since there was a pattern to this bad luck.

A mystery that I was sure would unravel soon enough.


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